


Frodo

by greenbucket



Series: Rec League [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbucket/pseuds/greenbucket
Summary: “Wow, you stink,” April says kindly from across the room.





	Frodo

“Frodo!” April calls across the ice. “Time to get in the showers before you get locked in.”

Ford carries on skating happy loops across the ice and yells back, “Stop it, that’s not my nickname!”

April scoffs. “Uh, yeah it is. You can’t be Fordo because it’s too much like Lardo, and Fordy sounds like some kind of bedsheet fold.”

“Or a cleaning product,” March calls from where she’s checking for anything left under the benches.

“Frodo is literally one of the most iconic literary characters ever,” Ford says, coming to a stop at the gate with a little spray of ice shards. “How is that better than Fordy?”

“’Cause you’re short,” April explains, smirking.

Ford pushes her without any real intent as she makes her way to the locker room. “I am not short, you’re just ridiculously tall.”

“I’m 5”7’, pipsqueak. March is the six-foot giant.”

“You know it,” March says and, on her way to let the last straggles of staff know they’re done, pretends to hit her head on the top of the doorway to demonstrate as she leaves.

Ford can give them that because March really is tall, even if the doorways are definitely taller. For dignity’s sake, she still protests, “Yeah well _I’m_ 5”2’, which isn’t even that short! Hobbits are tiny.”

April laughs. “That you think 5”2’ isn’t short is adorable.”

Ford huffs and strips off her sweaty jersey. When she’d first started out in the league she’d been a little self-conscious about getting changed in front of people, especially with the acne scarring all on her back that the kids in high school used to give looks when they had gym, but that’s quickly changed. There just isn’t space for that kind of thing with the time the team is given at the rink to change pre- and post-practice or pre- and post-game, and luckily the locker room doesn’t have that kind of vibe.

“Wow, you stink,” April says kindly from across the room.

“It’s because I actually work hard at practice, unlike some people,” Ford replies, rummaging around for a towel and heading for the showers. “I wasn’t chatting with March for 45 minutes.”

“We were discussing tactics, kid,” April says with faux superiority, “Now hurry up, I’m starving. Remember to clean behind your ears!”

Ford rolls her eyes to herself but makes sure to scrub down quickly and thoroughly; she really does kind of stink, and she really is starving, too. Hockey takes it out of her like little else, her body aching some nights after a long game, but at least it gives back twice as much. Excitement and adrenaline and fun and friends like Ford hadn’t even known she was missing.

Almost like she can hear such a sappy thought all the way from her stall, April starts talking loudly and pointedly about the exact feast of horrific crap she’s planning on getting from the 24-hour McDonald's, if only _someone_ wasn’t in love with the ice so much they should just marry it, and if only _someone_ would just hurry up and shower, maybe she should just leave _someone_ behind.

Ford feels unbearably fond as she yells through a mouthful of the rink showers’ lukewarm water for April to stop being so fucking whiny. Then she hurries up all the same; April’s her ride, and Ford may call McDonald's a crime against food, but she’ll be damned if she isn’t going to be saying it around the biggest mouthful of milkshake-dipped fries known to man.


End file.
